“Yeah, but …” I start, thinking of all the reasons I didn't want to attend Adamson as a girl in the first place. I'm not going to lie: I was scared. It was scary to be a girl surrounded by unfamiliar guys, especially in a new school, a new state, on the opposite side of the country from everything I'd ever known. And then the notes started coming, and the boys were bullying me …

Things are different now though, aren't they?

But I'm still scared. Just for a different reason.

“It might actually make things easier,” Church muses, leaning against the wall next to the closet. He's got that faraway look in his gaze again, like he's piecing together clues nobody else is even aware of. “You've got us now, and only a complete moron would bother the Student Council's girl.”

“The Student Council's girl?” I say skeptically, but … it's pretty much true, isn't it?

“But it would get more eyes on you,” Church continues, pushing off the wall to open the door for the twins. He must be, like, psychic or something, because they didn't even get a chance to knock.

“More eyes?” Tobias asks, lifting a red-orange brow in question as he and Micah fill up the narrow hallway space between us and the door.

“If Charlotte starts attending class as a girl, then the whole school will be talking about her, looking at her—”

“This is not a very compelling argument,” I murmur, but Church just plows on.

“The more people that are looking at her, the more she stands out, the less she can be targeted in the shadows.” He slides his palms down the lapels of his fancy pj shirt. “It's a solid idea, my darling.”

“Your darling?” the twins echo, making faces and then sticking their tongues out. “Gross.”

“It may be, Churchie-poo,” I retort, and both Ranger and Spencer join in in looking squicked out as I pick up the ring box and flick the lid open, examining the pink diamond inside. “But I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with attention from the entire school.”

“It's your decision to make,” Ranger says, narrowing his eyes to slits, like he's pissed off about something. He's probably not though. I've learned over the last year that he just always sort of looks like this. But it's also his fierce determination and overprotectiveness that make him likable. And also, lickable. Notice how those words are only one letter apart from each other. “We're here to back you up either way.”

There's a brief knock at the door before it opens up and Nathan the douche-canoe security guard is swinging the beam of his flashlight in all our faces.

“Curfew time, everyone to their own rooms,” he barks as the twins turn in unison, blocking Nathan's view of me in my pajamas. Hopefully they're baggy enough that he won't notice anything noteworthy, but the moment also makes me realize how much easier it'd be for us to hunt the murderers if we didn't have to worry about this secret on top of everything.

“You're supposed to knock first,” the twins snap, lifting their lips up in matching snarls as Nathan blinks bored eyes at us. His beard is sprinkled with Doritos crumbs again, and I can smell the Mountain Dew from here. How pleasant.

“I did knock,” he says with a shrug, tucking his flashlight into his belt. “But, despite what you little shits think, I'm not on your orders. The Headmaster wants all students accounted for and in their own rooms by eight.”

“This is ridiculous,” Spencer growls out as Church's face goes ice-cold. He's looking at Nathan like he's almost certain he's one of the prime suspects. “Since when do you get to cuss students out?”

“Good question, Mr. Hargrove,” Church says, watching as Nathan's eyes swing his way and stay there. The two of them stare at each other for a long, long moment before Nathan retreats, slamming the door behind him. He'll be back in thirty minutes to check on us. And then once every few hours after that. Thanks to Jason What’s-His-Name’s ‘disappearance’—aka his death—we really are being subjected to nightly attendance checks. Guess dad just didn't mean at the hot springs resort, huh? And there goes my new sex life, I think, flushing a bit. “When did Nathan get so uppity?”

“He was looking at you funny, too,” Spencer adds as the twins exchange a look and Ranger stares across the room at me.

Maybe he can tell I'm actually entertaining the ridiculous thought of attending Adamson in a skirt?

I must be slowly losing it.

Despite my father's desperate attempts to keep the gossip buzz to a minimum, the following Monday at Adamson is flooded with rumors about Jason and what might've happened to him.

“He was the only person on this campus who stood a chance running against Church and saving us from the shitty Student Council,” Mark declares loudly as I take my seat in my English and literature class. Of course, he's timed his remarks in just such a way that the twins—my escorts for today—have already left for their own class. “Has anyone else noticed that all of this weird shit started happening after Chuck enrolled here?”

I ignore him, pulling out my academy-issued iPad and using the eReader program to open my textbook. I'm determined to do well this year. I'll have to, if I want to get into college. The twins talked about Bornstead University like they were sure I could get in, if I really wanted to. And I do. For the first time in my life, I have a plan for my future—as tentative and unsure as it may be. In the past, I used to just fantasize about hanging out at the beach, surfing until the sun went down, and supplementing my income with something random like working at the Jamba Juice.

Yeah, I'm finally starting to figure out how silly that sounds.

“You have nothing to say for yourself, Chuck,” Mark sneers, coming over to stand in front of my desk. He puts his palms on top of my iPad, smearing fingerprints across the screen. My lips twitch in irritation as I look up at him. “And then on top of everything, your skinny, pathetic ass is now engaged to the richest guy in school? What a crock. You're nothing but a gold-digging faggot.”

I shove up from my seat, bristling with anger as the rest of the class turns to look at us. Mark's dark eyes twinkle with satisfaction, and the smirk working its way onto his face makes my fists itch with the threat of violence. I'd love to deck this ass pig, but what good would that do me? He could probably kick my ass in his sleep.

“You don't know anything about my relationship with Church,” I hiss, narrowing my blue eyes on him. “And besides, you're one to talk. Your best friend committed suicide, and you don't seem to give two fucks. I bet you tied that rope to the tree and hung him yourself.”

Mark's faces flashes with barely suppressed rage as he reaches out and grabs me by the new blue tie I've got on. While juniors wear navy slacks and blazers with champagne colored ties, seniors get the reverse: champagne colored slacks and blazers with blue ties.

“Really? You're accusing me of helping my best friend commit suicide? I could just as easily ask you why the only guy in this school who's ever challenged Church Montague for his position in the Student Council is now missing. Seems pretty convenient, huh?”

The door to the classroom opens and Mr. Murphy walks in. Unfortunately for me, he teaches both junior and senior English. Most particularly, he teaches the non-AP classes which, obviously, I’m in.